Thursday, January 30, 2014

TOMATOES - A LOVE AFFAIR

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I love tomatoes.I love them as much as I love pasta, so
obviously I wait with intense anticipation for the late summer months when this
most wonderful of the locally grown fruits is available.How do I survive the rest of the year
when fresh tomatoes are not available?The truth is, I am such a tomatoholic that a harsh winter tomato is
better than no tomato, much to the dismay of my dear wife.

Thinking about it, I
would have to say that the tomato has been the most prominent food in my life,
even more than my beloved pasta.The lovely Jersey tomato dominates the gastronomic history of my
childhood.There has never been
one that matches the flavor and richness of a tomato freshly picked from my
father’s garden.

By the time I started
school my father had converted the farm from crops to poultry, but always, out
of love and necessity, managed a large, abundant vegetable garden.He cultivated lettuce, asparagus,
arugula, corn, and a variety of peppers, but the queen of the garden was the
tomato.This was before the age of
the hybrids, and those seeds are no longer readily available; sadly the
tomatoes of my childhood are no more.The plants were not staked or contained in the cages used today.The vines, laden with their fruit lay
on the sandy soil, a mass of green dotted with red.The tomatoes were generally the size of a tennis ball, maybe
a little larger, and sometimes smaller.It is easy for me to remember the pure delight of slices of fresh tomato
and mayonnaise between two slices of bread on any summer day.

Competing with the
tomato sandwich for “the best way to enjoy a tomato” title was the tomato
salad, so simple, yet absolutely heavenly.Several tomatoes are cut into bite sized pieces and placed
in a bowl with a bit of water and drizzled with olive oil.Salt, oregano, basil, and chopped
garlic are added and mixed in with the tomatoes.Accompanying the salad should be several thick slices of good
Italian bread to sop up all the wonderful juices.

My dad, years later, in his beloved garden when he and my mom lived on our farm in Maryland.